


We Write Our Relationship Anew

by anarchycox



Series: Familial Relations of Isolated Wolves in Wintertime [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daddy Kink, Dealing With Trauma, Growing Relationships, M/M, Mending Bonds, Soft Lambert, Soft Vesemir, Unexpected feelings, Vesemir POV, Vesemir fucks, and they don't fuck, and vesemir finds out he wants it to, but things happen, drunken come on, lack of consent inherent in drunken sex, lambert knows what he wants, very minor suicide reference, vesemir tries to be good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Lambert comes home one winter, clearly upset and eventually he tells them about his friend Aiden who was murdered, and in doing so reveals how he really feels about his relationship with the other wolves. Things become different for the four at Kaer Morhen.And even more different for Vesemir and Lambert.
Relationships: Lambert/Vesemir (The Witcher)
Series: Familial Relations of Isolated Wolves in Wintertime [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936384
Comments: 40
Kudos: 164
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	We Write Our Relationship Anew

Vesemir knew his pups, better than they would ever realize. He could see all their flaws and strengths, both in training and around the dining table. He knew their favourite foods, what would make them laugh. What would cause nightmares in the night and he was always oh so casually poking about the kitchens those nights, making whatever would soothe the particular unsettled mind. He doubted they realized just how well he saw them but he did.

Eskel was scared that he didn’t feel enough.

Geralt was scared that he felt too much.

And Lambert was scared of what people felt for him.

But he kept his counsel and never pushed them, took care of them as well as they would let him. Which wasn’t much. But at least when spring rolled around their cheeks weren’t as hollow, fattened on the meat plentiful in their mountains, eyes not as haunted because they didn’t have to watch their backs every night. Weapons in the best repair because Vesemir would make sure of it.

Decades he didn’t do as much as he wanted, because he knew it would be unwelcome.

Though Geralt was slowly opening up more, since he started traveling with that bard, and Eskel’s facade of calm was fading, letting them see the passion underneath.

But this year, there was something entirely different about Lambert. He was always prickly, razor wire wrapped around hardwood. But it was always a clever tongue, and now he was cruel to his brothers. To Vesemir, though that was more common than to his brothers. It wasn’t just to lash out, it was an injured animal protecting his wounds. They were training, and Lambert was going harder than he usually would, usually could. 

He was trying to hurt his brothers, which was confusing. 

Vesemir watched carefully and saw Lambert actually get under Geralt’s guard which almost never happened. Geralt stopped the training routine and went into full attack mode instinctively. In an instant Vesemir understood. “Eskel, aard!” He pointed at Geralt, cast quen over Lambert. Between the two they stopped what would have been if not a fatal blow, one that ended Lambert’s life as a witcher. 

Vesemir ran over and crouched in front of Lambert. His voice was all anger, as it had been when he trained them out of foolish mistakes when they really were pups. “If you are so certain to commit suicide - jump over the cliff, don’t force your brother’s hand to do it.” He expected Lambert to snap and snarl at him. Instead, Lambert threw up, and started to sob, uncontrollably; an animal finally acknowledging the wound it was protecting. Vesemir looked up and Geralt and Eskel were staring in horror, not knowing what to do.

“Fix it,” Geralt blurted out, eyes wide. “Fix it, Vesemir.”

Vesemir gently put a hand to Lambert’s back, and he wasn’t pushed away. That suggested just how badly Lambert was hurting. “Eskel, can you carry him inside? Geralt, light the fire in the hall, bring some tea. And whisky.” He smiled a bit as Geralt ran into the keep. “Eskel, get him inside wrap him in blankets. I’ll be there shortly.” Vesemir was too invested in his role as swordmaster, and quickly tended to the weapons from training before he hurried inside. 

Lambert was in one of the chairs by the fire, wrapped in…gods above at least ten blankets and furs, and the smell of worry coming off of Eskel was nauseating. And it doubled when Geralt returned with a cup, and a bottle. “Do I pour the whisky in the tea?”

“You see which he needs,” Vesemir was quiet, worried too much noise would upset Lambert. He knew that Lambert had the most sensitive hearing of all of them. Which was a fucking miracle considering his affection for bombs. Lambert had stopped crying, and was now just staring into space. “Lambert, something to drink?”

“He’s dead. They killed him. Their own,” Lambert turned to look at Vesemir. “I don’t understand?”

“Humans are difficult to explain -” Vesemir began.

“He was a cat, they were cats, and they killed him.” Lambert took the whisky bottle and his throat swallowed four times before he pulled it away from his lips. “So I killed them. It didn’t bring him back.”

Vesemir sighed and sat in one of the other chairs. “A lover?”

Lambert shook his head. “Just, a decent man. He didn’t mind about me -” Lambert stopped talking. “He didn’t mind I was a wolf, or an asshole. Prick, cockstain. Lazy.”

Geralt collapsed to the ground. “We were joking. It was jokes. You called me things too.”

“I called you pretty boy, Vesemir’s favourite, how is that the same?”

“You are an asshole though,” Geralt said faintly. “You are always mean.”

Vesemir looked at Lambert and understood. “You didn’t think we stood beside you. And you found someone who did.” There was a small nod. “I always called you lazy because I could see just all your incredible potential, and I was terrified you wouldn’t use it, and one winter you wouldn’t come walking up the path.” Vesemir scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “It was how I always taught you pups. But that should have changed long ago. I am sorry, Lambert.”

“He was nice. Far too nice to be a witcher. Smiled, it was so weird. Smiled when he would see me coming. What the fuck was that? Never happened since…since it was just us left.” Lambert was clearly starting to shake even under the pile Eskel had put him on. He threw up all the whisky he had drunk onto the furs, and Eskel just swept them away. Geralt awkwardly gave him the mug of tea to rinse his mouth with. “Why would anyone smile at me?”

“Because you are handsome, and clever, a good witcher,” Vesemir praised, and it hurt how shocked that Lambert was by those words, “And I am sorry that I didn’t tell you that enough. That I didn’t tell you that at all. I assumed you would loathe words like those from me. The way you loathe me.”

“I don’t,” Lambert said. “I just didn’t know who else to be mad at.”

“What was his name?”

“Aiden,” Lambert replied. “He used these thin axes instead of swords. Horrible at gwent though, just even worse than Geralt.” Vesemir watched Lambert try to smile at Geralt, instead of the usual sneer that would accompany those words. And Geralt didn’t tense and snap as he usually would have.

“I beat three different innkeepers in Velen this season of the path, thank you very much. Got a commander’s horn card out of it.”

“Oooh,” both Eskel and Lambert replied, and it made Vesemir remember times before when sounds like that would echo in these halls. 

“Did you love him?” Geralt asked and Vesemir saw Geralt’s hand reach slowly out, wrap around Lambert’s ankle to comfort.

“He was a brother, not…we weren’t romantic. He wasn’t my type that way. He was -”

“He was what you didn’t think you had with us,” Eskel filled in. “Because we never figured out how to be just us.” Lambert gave a small nod. 

“That is my fault, I was all that was left. I should have guided you better.” Vesemir grabbed the whisky bottle and chugged down what was left. “I kept you alive, but fuck that isn’t enough. Surviving isn’t enough.”

“Sometimes it is what you have,” Geralt said. He was leaning his head against Lambert’s chair. “Well over twenty years, they still call me the butcher out there.”

It was Lambert’s turn to hesitate but he stroked Geralt’s hair. “It sucks,” was what he managed to say to comfort Geralt. By the small smile on Geralt’s face, Vesemir thought he succeeded. “It all really sucks.”

“Tell us about Aiden. A cat that was actually worth something, is certainly an interesting tale to tell.” Vesemir nodded at Lambert to encourage the man, and he started slowly but then the words began to flow. They listened to him all night, and something just seemed lighter about Lambert after.

Over the next couple of weeks, he still teased and talked shit constantly but it wasn’t an armor, it was in honest fun. His smiles didn’t look like he wanted to use his teeth on flesh, he didn’t shut down when he was teased back, especially when Eskel and Geralt changed their word choice. There was more smiles and laughter in the keep this winter than there had been the last four combined.

Vesemir was even humming as he put together their stew for supper. He was feeling extra happy that night, having watched the pups train in sync so beautifully that he decided to have beef stew. Their beef supply was the smallest of their meat, cows were not readily running around the mountaintop. But he threw it in the stock with the carrots, onion, and parsnips. Dried herbs and a full bottle of red wine added. He let it simmer and checked on the bread that was rising. He punched it down, shaped it to rise again, the barley smell and the stew smell blending perfectly. Everything was fine for an hour so he went to the well and brought a couple buckets up to his room. He went to get more water, and Lambert was filling a bucket also. He didn’t say anything, but helped Vesemir haul water to his room. 

“Thank you, Lambert,” Vesemir smiled at him, “I appreciate the help.” He didn’t think just reached out and scraped fingers at the back of Lambert’s neck to show friendship, casual affection, the way he and he fellow elders had long ago. A gesture almost forgotten. Lambert gasped and froze, and Vesemir figured the man was ticklish. He didn’t say anything as Lambert hurried away, just made a mental note not to do that again. He heated the water, though didn’t wait for it to get more than nicely warm. He bathed quickly, never one to linger in the water, but was slower with trimming his hair and beard. For so long he had just the mustache but had decided over the summer to trim that back, and go for a more full beard, more than scruff but not full mountain man beard. He thought it suited him, all in all. The pups hadn’t commented on it, but he didn’t really expect them to.

He emptied the water to the drain out on his balcony that took the water down to the gardens, surprisingly insulated in that corner of the keep grounds. It was a winter garden and they managed to have some fresh goods all winter long with care and a bit of magic. Vesemir went downstairs, added a bit more seasoning to the stew, some flour to thicken it. The bread had risen well and he slashed top, put it in the hot oven. He decided to indulge and have a glass of wine. He took it into the main hall, where Eskel was drawing and Geralt was organizing his gwent cards. Lambert was nowhere to be seen but that wasn’t a complete surprise. He had opened up but still needed his space. 

Vesemir could understand that, he was always asleep before the pups, up before them and enjoyed the quiet of the keep before they began to run about. Vesemir sat with a book and read, drank his wine. Lambert came downstairs and was looking nicer than he had in a bit. Shaved, hair slicked back, breeches with no stains or obvious mending. He came and sat in front of the fire, on the ground his shoulder pressed against Vesemir’s leg. Bit odd, but he had been showing more affection in general to all of them. Vesemir rubbed his foot briefly against Lambert’s thigh and then kept reading. 

Lambert was playing with something that Vesemir couldn’t recognize. “What is that?”

“Puzzle,” Lambert held it up. “A few years ago, I found a blacksmith in Novigrad who made these from spare bits. You have to get this ring off without breaking or separating the other pieces.” Lambert was smiling. “Been working on this one for a few months. It is fun!”

Vesemir couldn’t stop himself from stroking a hand over the man’s hair at how happy he sounded. “Clever boy.” There was quiet in the main hall as all three looked at him in various states of confusion. Vesemir decided he should check on the bread that was baking. He had no idea why he had said it that way to Lambert, touched him like that. And he certainly wouldn’t think about how Lambert tilted into the touch.

He pulled the bread from the oven, knocked the bottom and it had a lovely sound. Good. The stew was tasty and ready. He should bring the food to the dining area, but the kitchen was warm and put him at ease from the tension in his shoulders that he couldn’t understand. He gave a whistle as he put bowls on the table, readied everything. The pups hurried in, and he smiled at them. “Felt like eating in here tonight. Cozy.”

They all nodded and it was a great supper. They really should eat in the kitchens more, they was a great deal of joking, Lambert teasing Geralt about the songs that were written about the man by that bard, Geralt teasing Eskel about his new fondness for raising goats. A few more mugs of ale were enjoyed than usual and when it was clear the pups were going to get tawdry in their conversation about conquests on the path, he bid them good night.

Vesemir seldom took part in those conversations, not because he was a prude, but because he didn’t want to show the pups up. He had overheard them once in awe of Eskel fucking a succubus, and thought about the equinox he had once spent servicing a trio. But the poor pups would die if they knew everything Vesemir had done in his few centuries of life. In his rooms, he lit the fire and read a bit more. He had been intrigued by the little puzzle Lambert had and began to sketch out a few plans. He did some blacksmith work in the winter to occupy time, because it was fun, and it could be enjoyable to make a few for Lambert.

He put away his work and sat before the fire, not ready for bed, but also wanting to do anything in particular. He stared at the flames and let him mind wander. The hand on his thigh moved upwards and he slouched back in his chair a bit, began to palm his cock through his breeches. Vesemir wasn’t in any rush, not even sure if he wanted to get, just enjoying the slowly growing heat low in his gut. He traced the shape of himself as he stared at the fire. He stroked, teased himself and was just debating pulling his cock out to properly wank when he heard giggles and stumbling footsteps. His rooms weren’t far from the pups, but neither did you go past his door to get to their spaces. He moved his hand to his thigh and waited for a knock.

There wasn’t though, Lambert just burst in, hair flopping about, cheeks flushed. “We opened the red ale.” He came and just as he had earlier, flopped at Vesemir’s feet and leaned against him. “Geralt is getting worse at gwent. I didn’t even know that was possible! Or when I’ve had enough ale, I get really good at gwent?”

Vesemir chuckled a bit. “I think maybe the ale affected you all. How much did you drink?” 

“Uhhh, enough that we feel it but not so much can’t cast signs. I absolutely didn’t light that tapestry I hate on fire.”

Vesemir flat out guffawed at that. “Silly pup,” he chided fondly. “Well, let’s get you to your own room.”

“No, I came here for a reason,” Lambert looked up at him and was pouting. “Not pup. Boy?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You call Geralt pup. Earlier you said clever boy. I like that more.” Now that surprised him, and he was even more surprised when Lambert took Vesemir’s hand and buried it in his hair. “Say it right,” Lambert was scowling a bit, and it was fucking adorable if Vesemir was honest with himself.

“Silly boy,” Vesemir said and Lambert just went completely limp against him. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, had they drunk enough to cause Lambert to pass out? But then Lambert moved, and pressed his face against Vesemir’s thigh, nuzzled, sniffed.

“You smell like arousal,” Lambert muttered against Vesemir’s clothes.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting company, so I had been entertaining myself.” Vesemir did not laugh at the shocked look that Lambert gave him, but it was difficult. “What?”

“You fuck your hand?”

“Of course I do,” Vesemir booped his nose. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re Vesemir, you don’t fuck!” Lambert still looked at him in shock. “If you did I would have -” Vesemir could actually hear Lambert’s teeth slam into each other.

“If I did, what?” Vesemir was a bit lost. He watched as Lambert shifted on the ground, so that instead of beside he was now between Vesemir’s legs. He was kneeling up and his hands were pressing on Vesemir’s thighs. Vesemir tried not to think about how good Lambert looked there. “We should get you to bed sweet boy.” The words just slipped out and he waited for Lambert to snarl or say something cruel.

Instead Lambert moaned, and his eyes were huge. “Daddy,” he breathed out and began to kiss at the fabric over Vesemir’s cock. It was sloppy, wet, uncoordinated, and Vesemir for a moment wanted nothing more than to draw down his breeches and just force Lambert’s mouth to take all of cock. But the man was drunk, had no idea what he was doing and come morning would be best ashamed, worse enraged. And he couldn’t do that to the man. He heard another breathless moan and this time it was _Papa_ and it made all his thoughts swim for a moment before he pushed Lambert away.

There was such a noise of disappointment at that that it almost broke Vesemir’s will. “Lambert -”

“No,” fuck all the gods that gave Lambert such a beautiful pout, sent to utterly destroy Vesemir. “Boy.”

“Lambert,” Vesemir put some authority in his voice but not too much as he could see how fragile Lambert was, “You have had too much to drink, and you will regret this.”

“But you touched my neck,” Lambert whined.

“Yes, but -” 

“That is what the daddies in brothels do, so you know you can be their boy, and you did it, so I thought you wanted me. Don’t you want me?” 

Fuck, Vesemir’s mind went blank. “This is what your type is?”

“I have issues!” he sounded almost cheerful. “Or I did, Aiden helped a lot with that. Now it is just a thing I like.” Lambert went back to pouting. “You don’t like it? Me?”

“I like you very much sweet boy,” Vesemir was helpless to say anything but. He couldn’t though. “But now I need you to be a good boy for me.” The way Lambert shivered at that made him think a hundred bad thoughts. It was difficult enough as it was to ignore how close Lambert was to his cock. “I need you to go back to your room and sleep it off. Then we’ll forget this ever happened. Redanian ale packs a hell of a punch.”

“My room will have bad dreams,” Lambert whispered, “let me stay…please, Papa?”

His eyes were shining with hope and worry in equal measure. “Very well,” Vesemir agreed. He watched as Lambert stood and stripped down to his small clothes, and collapsed on Vesemir’s bed. Vesemir rolled his eyes and went over to get Lambert properly tucked in. “We have a bit of a problem. At Kaer Morhen, I sleep naked.”

“I do not see how that is a problem, Papa.” Lambert had the blankets pulled way up, and Vesemir could barely make out his face. “I can close my eyes.” Vesemir chuckled at the way they were pressed tightly closed. He really shouldn’t agree to this but he wanted to feel Lambert’s skin against his. Vesemir stripped down, slid into the bed and Lambert was immediately plastered to his side. “Papa.” Lambert’s hand was on his stomach and started to drift lower.

“No,” Vesemir said firmly. “Behave or you’ll be sent back to your room.” The hand stilled on his stomach immediately. “Good boy,” he praised and Lambert snuggled in even closer. Vesemir wrapped an arm around him, and decided a small indulgence was fine and stroked his fingers up and down Lambert’s back. Lambert just melted against him, threw his leg over Vesemir’s thigh. Vesemir could feel that Lambert was hard against him. He would ignore that, as best he could. “Good boy,” he repeated and there was that shiver again. “When you are sober in the morning, I just ask that you don’t kill me in my sleep.”

“Wouldn’t. Need you. Want you. Want you so much, Papa. Been touching myself every night thinking now that you like me, of the things we could do together.”

“I’ve always liked you,” Vesemir swore. “We just weren’t very good at showing it. Better now. You made us better, sweet boy. A wonderful gift.” Fuck it, Vesemir squeezed him tightly and pulled him up for a hard kiss that left them both breathless. He then settled Lambert back over his heart.

They were quiet for a time, both ignoring how hot Lambert’s cock was trapped against their bodies. “Can’t sleep,” Lambert whined. “Papa, please?”

“I won’t touch you drunk, sweet boy, that would be wrong unless it is talked about beforehand, there are rules about that sort of thing.” There was a whine, and fuck if Lambert knew how easily he could manipulate Vesemir, Vesemir’s life would become incredibly difficult. “But if you need to bring yourself off that is fine.” He loosened his arm around Lambert so that the man could roll away, to take care of himself, but it seemed like Lambert pressed even closer. 

Then he began to rock against Vesemir. Fuck, the man was going to rub himself off on Vesemir’s thigh. He really should stop that, but the press of Lambert’s skin against his felt better than he could have imagined. Lambert was making these little whimpers and moans as he rocked against Vesemir’s leg that had Vesemir reaching under the covers with his free hand to stroke his own cock in time to Lambert’s rocking. Neither man said a word, just the noise of their breath and bodies filling the room. Lambert got off first, the splash of his come on Vesemir’s thigh, warm, more intense than he expected. He finished himself off and stood to wipe off all the come. When he returned to the bed, Lambert had rolled over and fallen asleep.

He was snoring.

Vesemir knew he should put distance between them but instead he wrapped his arms around Lambert and drew Lambert’s back against his chest. Lambert snuggled in and Vesemir huffed a bit at the way Lambert’s ass pressed against his spent cock. “Oh my boy, what am I going to do with you?” He gently kissed Lambert’s head and fell asleep.

In the morning he was not surprised, but was disappointed that Lambert was gone. The day passed as any other, he yelled at the pups during their training, prepared food, and continued refining those drawing plans. He played gwent with Geralt that night, and gods above he was actually getting worse. “Geralt, stop playing with a monster deck, you are awful with them.”

He could hear Lambert laugh from the other end of the table where he was fiddling with the puzzle again. 

“I want to get the hang of it,” Geralt pouted. 

“Give it another twenty years and maybe you’ll figure it out,” Lambert teased.

“Another thirty and maybe you’ll have that scrap metal sorted,” Geralt shot back. 

“Let me help you,” Eskel ever the peace maker said and he whispered tips to Geralt as the pup played Vesemir. He lost by a more respectable margin.

“Better,” Vesemir grunted. “I’m going to walk the ramparts.” He head out, it was a beautiful night. He toured, made a note of a couple places that needed repairs. He kept walking as he heard footsteps behind him, waited for them to match his.

“I like older men. Yeah it is probably because of “my past trauma and history with authority figures” but also because they are really fucking hot, and know what they are doing in bed. I like when they make me feel small and cared for. Looked after even as they fuck me into next week.”

Vesemir looked at Lambert who was all bravado and terror in equal measure. “Do you?”

“Yeah, I really fucking do. I like to be fucked. I don’t really much like fucking people, I like to be gently ordered about, and to be told I’m good. And I don’t get this much but I like to be punished if I am naughty.” Lambert was hunched in on himself. “Like clearly not beat the shit out of me punished, never hitting my face but -”

Vesemir reached out and tipped Lambert’s chin, “But my good boy, tries hard and just needs reminders of the rules sometimes?” There was a small nod. “You are rewriting who we have been for decades. That won’t be easy.”

“Fuck easy, when have I ever liked a fucking thing that is easy?” Lambert challenged. He was glaring. “I want you. I want you to all winter make me feel good, and wanted, and loved. And I want you to fuck me. A lot, because that taste last night, I need so much more.”

Vesemir moved just a little away from Lambert. “Be sure,” he said. You are going to your room and thinking very carefully about what you want from me. And I will think very carefully about what I want from you. If you knock on my door later tonight, be goddamn fucking sure, Lambert, that you want whatever will happen next. This is not something that we will easily walk back from.”

“Please, can you?” Lambert his lip and Vesemir’s thumb eased the teeth away from the soft flesh. He pressed his thumb into Lambert’s mouth. “Be my good boy, go to your room and think carefully.”

Vesemir went to his room and wrote out some notes, plans for what might come next. Several candle marks passed and he figured Lambert had changed his mind, and that hurt more than he expected. He blew out the candles and went to bank the fire a bit, when there was a knock at his door. Unbearably small, tentative. Vesemir opened the door and Lambert was there wearing nothing but his sleeping pants and a hopeful smile.

“Need you, Papa,” Lambert said in a sweet voice that made Vesemir’s heart ache.

Vesemir spoke honestly when he replied, “Need you too, sweet boy.” He held the door open and yes Lambert was a bit taller than him but he enjoyed the squeak that came out of Lambert when Vesemir picked him up and wrapped Lambert’s legs around his hips. He carried the man easily over to the chair by the fire and settled them in, Lambert snuggled in his lap. “Now, how about you tell Daddy everything you need, my sweet boy.”


End file.
